The Distance Between
Copyright© 2025 by Art Samms
Chapter 10
DARYA
It was Thursday morning, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Leila.
I sat at my desk, the usual reports and emails blinking on my screen, but my mind was elsewhere — fixed on her. She had the tea meeting today. With him. Dr. Moradi. Just thinking about that smug, polished dentist made my jaw tighten.
I’d talked to her the night before, heard the nerves in her voice, even though she was trying to sound calm. She was dreading it — I could tell. I knew her well enough to recognize when her voice was putting on a brave front. And underneath the dread, I knew exactly who she was thinking about. Elias.
I didn’t blame her.
The whole thing made my skin crawl — the way her family was trying to corral her into this match like it was a business merger. Leila had always been a little quiet about what she wanted for her future, but even so, I knew she didn’t want this. Not like this. Not someone chosen for her by her mother and brother. Not someone with pristine credentials but a soulless smile.
And definitely not someone who wasn’t Elias.
I hadn’t told her — or Elias — what I’d been up to. Not yet. I didn’t want to say anything unless I had something solid. No use getting their hopes up over a hunch and some vague gossip.
But I had a lead.
Earlier in the week, I’d casually brought up Dr. Moradi in a conversation with my friend Mehri. She knew half the medical crowd in town. I’d played it cool, like I’d heard of him and wondered if he was married. She’d said no, but then paused and added, “I think he was engaged a couple of years ago. Didn’t work out. I don’t know why.” She shrugged it off, but my ears perked up.
It wasn’t much — just a loose thread — but it was something.
So yesterday, I went to my aunt. She knew people — matchmakers, gossipy neighbors, old friends from university. I told her I was asking for a “friend” — a cousin’s friend, technically — and gave her Dr. Moradi’s full name. She didn’t raise any questions. She just nodded and said she’d look into it and get back to me on Friday.
I knew that was cutting it close — too late to stop the tea meeting — but in this game, timing was everything. Leila wouldn’t be expected to answer on the spot. At least, I hoped not. And if something ugly came to light about the good doctor, well ... then maybe we’d have a way out.
I glanced at my phone. No updates yet.
My stomach twisted, not from nerves, but from a sharp, simmering hope. I didn’t trust this man, and I didn’t trust Leila’s family to put her happiness before appearances.
But I trusted myself to dig. And if there was dirt to be found, I’d find it.
One more day.
Please let it be enough.
LEILA
Maman had been fluttering around me like a hummingbird all morning, adjusting my scarf, commenting on my posture, reminding me not to speak too quickly.
“Smile, but not too much. Be polite, but don’t seem desperate. And please, Leila joon, sit with your shoulders back. You look like you’re at a funeral.”
I was at one, I wanted to say. My own.
Instead, I nodded mutely and stared at the wall behind her as she fussed with my collar again. I’d tuned out the coaching hours ago. It was the same script I’d heard since I was sixteen: “Make a good impression. Show your worth. Say the right things.”
But all I could think about was Elias.
What he would say if he saw me now, sitting here like a dressed-up doll, waiting for a man I didn’t choose to arrive with an unspoken question I already knew the answer to.
The bell rang. Maman gasped a little, as if royalty had arrived, and darted to the door. I stayed where I was, smoothing my skirt with damp palms.
Dr. Moradi entered with a smile that was practiced and polished — a dentist’s smile, I supposed. Neat, confident, a little too white. He brought pastries. My father stood to greet him, my brother followed, and I was left last, rising politely as they introduced us.
We all sat in the front room. The tea came quickly. My mother had arranged the cushions and trays just so, as if setting a trap made of velvet and sugar cubes. Dr. Moradi was courteous, of course. He asked about my work, complimented my education. I responded in the measured, pleasant tone I’d rehearsed in the mirror the night before. But my mind was drifting.
I kept picturing Elias — the way he tucked his hair behind his ear when he was thinking, how he always looked directly at me when I spoke, as if I was the only person in the world. The way his eyes warmed when I made him laugh.
Dr. Moradi was speaking again. Something about his clinic. A new equipment purchase? I nodded along. He turned the conversation toward family values, the importance of stability, building a future. Then — as expected — he glanced at my father, then back to me.
“I’d like to move forward,” he said smoothly, “if Leila is agreeable.”
Baba smiled. Maman clapped her hands softly. Omid’s eyes were practically gleaming.
I smiled faintly and said, “Thank you.” That was all. Nothing more.
I needed oxygen.
As soon as Dr. Moradi left, the house turned into a pressure cooker. My mother was already floating on air, chattering about wedding timelines. Omid leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, saying things like, “You can’t keep dragging your feet. It’s a good match. Don’t be foolish.”
Baba simply nodded a lot, like everything had already been decided.
I excused myself with the thinnest excuse — something about needing fresh air. No one tried to stop me.
The second I was around the corner, I yanked my phone out of my bag and typed furiously.
Me:
Well ... that’s over. Thank God. I need to talk to someone who treats me like myself. Meet me at the bakery?
I hit send before I could overthink it. Then I started walking.
I didn’t care about the looks I’d get. Or the whispers. I just needed to see Elias. I needed to breathe.
ELIAS
Her text came just as I was shutting down my laptop.
Leila:
Well ... that’s over. Thank God. I need to talk to someone who treats me like myself. Meet me at the bakery?
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.